


D is to Dine

by greerwatson



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerwatson/pseuds/greerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in "Outside the Lines", Nick remained in France with the Resistance, waiting for the time when the Allies would invade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D is to Dine

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the seventieth anniversary of the Normandy Landings, and posted to FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU on 6 June 2014.

On the 6th of June, Nicolas was in Rouen.  After the betrayal in Lyons, his heart had led him north.  He did good work in Liège.  Still, everyone knew that sometime (surely soon!), the British must make their invasion, along with their American allies.  France was a more likely coast for landing; so he inveigled his way east, into different cells of the Resistance, where he learned of liaison plans:  telephones to cut, railways to sabotage.  So, on the 6th of June, he was in Rouen.

Janette arrived that night, flying over the Channel.  She came on the wind around midnight; and night had not dimmed her view of battle.  There was, she said, a veritable armada afloat; bodies torn and tumbled on the beaches; fighting inland.

“Nous allons bien boire!” she hissed; and her eyes blazed with excitement.

“Nous devons les aider,” said Nicolas.  The Germans held Paris … her beloved Paris … did she not care?

“Paris est éternelle,” said Janette.  She cast him a scornful look.  The city had been raised before her birth, and would outlast even _their_ immortality.  What was a mere mortal Occupation?  A few years in the eons of eternity.

“Les Alliés, ils sont venus a nous libérer,” he remonstrated.

She looked startled.  “Qu’est-ce que vous dîtes ... ‘nous’?” she asked suspiciously.

“Je lutte aux côtés de la Résistance.”

She had not known.  It was clear from her face.  When he had crossed the Channel with Lacroix, she had remained in England; when they had parted, his master had headed east, to glut himself—as he had done a century before—on Russian battlefields.  She had sensed Nicolas to the south, as he had sensed her northward location; but no one had told her what kept him in Occupied lands. 

She did not doubt what he said.  (It was just like him, after all.)

“Ça ne fait rien,” she said dismissively.  “Viens avec moi à Caen, et nous allons nous amuser.  Et, enfin, la France sera libérée.”

And so it was.


End file.
